


Breaking Tradition

by Starbucky (StarBucky)



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Home Tattoos, M/M, Needle Phobia, Panic Attacks, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-28
Updated: 2015-01-28
Packaged: 2018-03-09 10:08:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3245702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarBucky/pseuds/Starbucky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gerard's trust in Frank is greater than his fear of needles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breaking Tradition

**Author's Note:**

  * For [deadfrnk (SuckMyKilljoy)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuckMyKilljoy/gifts).



> cross posted from my tumblr.

It had been weeks and Gerard was still fucking thinking about it. When Frank had stumbled up to him drunk out of his mind and slung an awkward arm over Gerard’s shoulders, the older man had brushed off the suggestion as another one of Frank’s idiotic passing thoughts.

_“You would look fucking hot with a tattoo,_ _”_  he’d slurred, pressing his fingers into the flesh directly to the left of Gerard’s right shoulder blade.  _“_ _Right there._ _”_  Mikey, who had been standing beside his brother, rolled his eyes and knocked back the rest of the drink in his hand before walking off, presumably to find Pete or more alcohol. Probably both. Gerard had just made some sort of humming noise as Frank buried his face in his armpit.

Frank hadn’t mentioned anything about it since that night, but Gerard couldn’t seem to forget it. It wasn’t that he didn’t like tattoos; quite the opposite actually. He often caught himself staring at Frank’s body art, mesmerized by the patterns that the ink created on his skin.

The problem was that getting tattooed required the person being inked to sit perfectly still while the artist injected the skin over and over again with multiple needles. The thought alone caused Gerard’s stomach to churn, panic rising up in his chest. He had to take a few deep breaths to calm himself back down.

Despite that, the singer found himself imagining what he might look like with permanent ink staining his pale skin.

***

“Hey, Mikey?” Gerard called out, catching the attention of the younger Way as he walked past where Gerard was seated on the couch. Mikey stopped, turning his head to give his brother a questioning look.  _What do you want?_  it said without any verbalization.

“Do you think I should get a tattoo?”

Mikey couldn’t quite stop the obnoxious snort that escaped him at the suggestion. It wasn’t exactly a secret that Gerard couldn’t handle needles, and Mikey was pretty damn sure his brother wasn’t naive to how the process worked.

“I’m serious, Mikes!” Gerard defended, pushing his lower lip out into a pout that he aimed at Mikey.

“You can’t even handle a flu vaccine without someone holding your hand,” was all Mikey said before continuing on in the direction he’d been heading. Gerard just sighed and leaned back further into the couch.

***

It wasn’t until a month and a half later that Gerard said anything about it again. He was sitting beside Frank in the younger man’s living room, only half listening to him yammer on about something or another while he absently strummed at his guitar.  

“Did you hear me, Gee?” Frank asked, putting his hand over the guitar strings to silence them. Gerard shook his head, causing Frank to shoot him an overly dramatic mock sigh. “Something on your mind?”

When Gerard nodded, Frank replaced his guitar on its stand and turned to give his friend his full attention. It was silent for a few moments before Gerard spoke.

“I want you to give me a tattoo, Frankie,” he finally admitted, his voice surprisingly steady compared to his nerves, which were bouncing all over the place. Frank just stared at him for a moment, unsure if he’d heard correctly.

“Can you repeat that?” he finally asked, because really, he had to have heard wrong.

“I want a tattoo,” Gerard repeated in a voice barely above a whisper, “and I want  _you_  to be the one to give it to me.” So he had heard correctly the first time.

“You do know--,” Frank began, but Gerard cut him off, knowing what he was about to say and not wanting to hear it. He was already panicking enough and he was afraid that he’d completely lose the nerve to go through with his decision if he were to hear the words spoken aloud.

“I know!” he said quickly, reaching a hand up to run through his hair nervously as he looked at Frank. “That’s why it has to be you, Frankie… I trust you more than anyone.”

Ten minutes later, Gerard was sitting at Frank’s dining table, fidgeting anxiously as he waited for Frank to return. He’d gone to another part of the house to retrieve the things he’d need to permanently mark Gerard’s skin. When he came back, the singer swallowed audibly as the realization that this was really happening set in. Frank was going to give him his very first--and probably only--tattoo.

“So you want a semicolon on your shoulder blade, right?” Frank asked as he opened up a brand new needle and dropped it into a small pot of boiling water. Gerard was pointedly not looking Frank’s way, not wanting to see him sterilizing and preparing the needle.

“Yeah,” he confirmed, unable to keep the nervous tremble out of his voice. “With the date...”

“Okay.” Gerard had already had his tattoo design in mind when he’d come to Frank, which made things easier. He wanted a small semicolon on his back with the date ‘08.11.04’ printed beside it. Frank knew the significance of that date without even having to ask. It was the day that Gerard had finally started on his long road to recovery, and Frank thought the design was perfect for him.

As Frank finished up sterilizing and setting up his inks and equipment, Gerard focused on trying to push down the panic that was rising in his chest and making him want to get up and flee the house before this torture could begin.

“Are you ready?” Frank asked, making Gerard visibly flinch as he placed his fingers on the skin he was about to tattoo, pulling it tight and flat. Gerard stared down at his shirt that was currently in his lap and wondered briefly when it had been removed from his body.

“Yeah…” he managed miserably, and Frank leaned forward in his chair to whisper a few comforting words into his best friend’s ear.

“This is going to hurt a lot,” Frank warned when he straightened back up, dipping his needle into the ink. Gerard flinched again when he heard the tattoo machine buzz to life. “You have to hold still.”

Gerard’s only response was a high pitched and extremely distressed sounding whimper, and Frank gave him one last reassuring pat before pushing the needle into Gerard’s back.

***

“I’m gonna be sick, Frankie, I mean it!” Gerard whined for about the millionth time since Frank had started working. His voice was shaking and Frank could tell that he was paler than usual and sweating. The tattoo was about halfway done at this point, and besides his best efforts to control his trembling, Gerard was still shaking pretty badly.

“No you’re not,” Frank said softly, but he paused anyway to give Gerard a short break. “You’re okay,” he comforted. Gerard shook his head somewhat erratically as his breathing increased in intensity, and Frank was worried that Gerard actually would make himself sick if he started hyperventilating.

“I can’t…!” Gerard choked out, and Frank felt something stab right through his heart as he realized that Gerard was on the verge of tears. Putting the tattoo gun down on a clean paper towel, Frank pulled off his ink and sweat covered surgical gloves and tossed them onto another towel.

“You’re doing really great, Gee,” he praised, reaching around to rub comforting circles into Gerard’s thigh. Gerard responded by shuddering violently and swallowing several times in quick succession.

Frank stood up then, careful to avoid knocking anything over, and moved so that he was standing in front of Gerard rather than behind him. Dropping down to his knees, he carefully laid his head down in Gerard’s lap.

“It’s gonna be okay, Gee,” he murmured, still rubbing soothingly against Gerard’s thigh. “You’re almost done.” The only indication that Gerard had even heard him was his shaky breaths slowing to a slightly more calm level, and though it was clear that the singer was still extremely panicked and upset, Frank decided to take what he was given. He picked his head up from it’s place in Gerard’s lap, taking the time to place a quick kiss on each of Gerard’s kneecaps before he stood.

Once Frank was seated behind Gerard again, he pulled on a clean pair of gloves and picked up his tattoo gun again. He re-sterilized the needle with rubbing alcohol before dipping in into the ink again.

Gerard tensed up when Frank turned the machine on again. He tried to force himself to relax, but all he could think about was the needle entering his body, pushing through the top layer of skin to inject the ink into the layer beneath. He squeezed his eyes shut as nausea churned up his stomach once again and his panic fogged mind barely registered the soft words of comfort pouring continuously from Frank’s mouth as he began to work again.

***

When the tattoo was finally completed, Frank put his equipment down and leaned back to admire his work. He was very pleased with the result, impressed that his hand had stayed so steady despite Gerard’s perpetually shaking frame.

“There you go, Gee,” he declared, “all finished.” Gerard seemed to relax considerably as soon as the torture device was out of Frank’s hands. He was still far from calm, but a lot of the tension seemed to drain from his body.

Frank applied a very thin layer of tattoo ointment to the newly finished work, then used a clean square of gauze to bandage it up.

When he’d finished cleaning up his workspace and putting everything away, Frank returned to find Gerard in the exact same place he’d left him, sitting in his chair with a look of panicked terror etched into his very pale face.

“Gee,” he whispered, and Gerard flinched back when Frank reached for his hand. “Gerard?” he tried again, this time giving a little tug on his hand. Gerard finally looked up then, and Frank gave him one of his genuine and warm smiles.

Gerard got dizzily to his feet; when he stumbled forward on his shaky legs, Frank reached out to steady him.

“Easy, Gee,” Frank laughed, holding onto him as he went through the aftercare instructions that he knew he’d have to repeat again later. When he’d gotten through them all, Gerard returned Frank’s smile with a small, nervous one of his own.

“How’s it look?” he asked, leaning into Frank for support. Frank’s smile curled up into a satisfied smirk.

“I was right,” he declared, and before Gerard could ask him what the hell he was talking about, Frank clarified. “You look fucking hot with a tattoo.”

As soon as the words passed his lips, Frank wasted no time in pulling Gerard down into a kiss that conveyed to him what he’d really meant to say.

_I fucking love you_.


End file.
